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“You look amazing,” Marcus said as he led her to the elevator.
She raised a brow. “You like my badass bitch look?”
“Bitch?” he echoed as he swiped a key card and pressed the highest floor. “You may be a badass, but you’re not a bitch.”
She glanced at Frederick and Mickey who gave them a modicum of privacy by standing in front of them. What she’d done to Carter was a bitch move—arouse, taunt, desert.
“I am a bitch.”
“You won’t convince me of that,” Marcus said.
He leaned against the wall of the elevator in a charcoal gray suit with a navy-blue handkerchief in the pocket. He was effortlessly stylish and handsome and a sight for sore eyes. He was relaxed and amused and worlds away from what she experienced with Angel ten minutes ago. He was smiling and happy while she felt wanton and vicious. Angel guessed what was going on with her at a glance because he was experiencing it himself. He could control and exploit a woman to get off, but what the hell was she going to do? She was on the verge of another bender as Marcus called it. Three steps forward, six back. She was good for a couple of days before something dragged her back to square one. She instinctively called Marcus. She hoped he could help her because she had no plan B.
She crossed her arms as she faced him across the lift. “I have bitch moments. Do you have a thing for dangerous women?”
He cocked his head to the side as he examined her. “Dangerous?”
“I’m armed,” she said.
He shrugged. “So am I.”
He was dismissing her claims, as usual. She wasn’t sure if that irritated or charmed her. He refused to see how fucked up and crazy she was. A part of her hated that she wanted to be the woman he thought she was. Well, she couldn’t say she hadn’t warned him.
The elevator opened to reveal a short hallway that led to two imposing doors. Marcus turned to Frederick and Mickey.
“No one can reach this floor without a key card. I’ll take care of her. Take a break.”
Frederick and Mickey looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded. Marcus swiped his key card in the elevator so her guards could go back to the lobby and turned to her.
“You’re staying in the penthouse?” she asked.
“No, but since you were coming, I thought we could enjoy the view.”
Marcus swiped his key in the door. The sound of running water tickled her ears as she entered. There was a five-foot-tall lion fountain to the left of the door. Its mane was perpetually slick from the water cascading down his back and tapping pleasantly in the pool he stood in. A wall of unbroken glass showed The Strip in all its glory. The bright colors bounced off the gleaming black floor. There was a full-size kitchen to the left and a massive living area that could easily sit up to fifteen people. On the long black dining table was a bucket of ice with two bottles of wine and several covered trays.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Thought you might be hungry.”
“It’s midnight.”
“So? Are you hungry?”
She was a lot of things, but she wasn’t sure if hungry was one of them. She watched him uncover the trays to reveal rows of tiny, elegant appetizers.
“I told you I was coming an hour ago. How did you put this together so quickly?”
He raised a brow. “This is Pyre Casinos, babe. We’re ready for anything.”
He opened a white wine with a French label as she walked toward the wall of glass. The huge balcony along two sides of the penthouse was everything. There was a full-size Jacuzzi, lounge chairs, and a covered cabana along with an untended bar. The penthouse was definitely made for entertaining.
“Here.”
She accepted the glass of wine. “Thanks.”
She let the chilled wine wash away the bitter taste on her tongue. Marcus watched her intently, gauging her mood. How much did he see?
“I’m glad you came tonight.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “You’re wearing your armor tonight.”
